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Christopher Hill, it turns out, does his best work by moonlight. The U.S. Assistant Secretary of State and chief negotiator at the six-party North Korean nuclear talks had a Chinese draft proposal in hand that could jump-start the long-stalled negotiations. The proposal offered Pyongyang the possibility of a light-water reactor for producing electrical power in the future if it agreed to completely dismantle its nuclear programs, both military and civilian. But Hill needed assurances from the other delegations—China, Russia, Japan, South Korea—that they would not help North Korea get the reactor until international inspectors verified that Pyongyang had kept its word. So at a lavish Mid-Autumn Festival party on Sept. 17 hosted by Chinese Vice Foreign Minister and chief negotiator Wu Dawei, Hill went to work. According to a U.S. official, in between the Dynasty-brand wine, mooncakes and calls to U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, who was in New York buttonholing foreign ministers as they attended the U.N. World Summit, Hill nailed down agreements that the others would not help North Korea get its reactor until Pyongyang's nuclear warheads and fissile material were eliminated. Confident that the U.S. line would be backed, Hill lit a cigar and indulged in some moongazing.

That was how the six-party talks were saved: China provided the foundation, and Hill and Rice closed the deal. At around noon on Sept. 19 the delegations released the Chinese-authored statement of principles, and Pyongyang agreed to abandon its nuclear programs in exchange for security, economic and energy benefits that included the possibility of the light-water reactor. No specific dates for disarmament have been set, and barely hours passed before Pyongyang and Washington were sniping at each other over the details. North Korea declared that the U.S. "should not even dream" that it would dismantle its nuclear programs before receiving a new plant. But for the first time since the U.S. accused North Korea of breaking a 1994 accord freezing its nuclear weapons program three years ago, there is some hope that the standoff on the Korean peninsula can be resolved. "We have an agreement," Hill told reporters later that day. "It wasn't easy, but I think important things don't come easily, and I think it's a very important agreement."

The situation looked anything but hopeful when the latest round of the talks began on July 25. The U.S. and its allies raised the prospects of normalized international relations if Pyongyang abandoned its nuclear aspirations. But the North Koreans balked, insisting they needed a nuclear plant to produce electricity—a condition the U.S repeatedly said was a deal-breaker. With the two sides in a stalemate, China's Wu called a recess on August 7. Back in Washington, Hill vented his frustrations. "For a moment, I really thought I saw the top of the mountain there," he said in a speech to the Asia Society. "It got fogged in, eventually, but nonetheless we could see clearly where we were heading."

Hill had as good a set of credentials as anyone for breaking the standoff. A career diplomat whose mild appearance belies his toughness, Hill was a critical player in the difficult negotiations that ended the Bosnia war ten years ago. Those who've worked with him say he is quick and confident, and adept at using the media to put himself in a stronger position. He also has the capacity, useful when dealing with Pyongyang, of getting through to even the most stubborn—one diplomat jokes that when Hill worked on the Bosnian talks "he had the remarkable ability of being able to get [chief negotiator Richard] Holbrooke to listen." But Hill's real talent may be the trust he can inspire in those who matter. In the Korean talks, he has been given a long leash by U.S. President George W. Bush and Rice. Hill forged an unlikely bond with his rough-edged, chain-smoking Chinese counterpart Wu. Though he doesn't normally smoke, Hill bummed cigarettes from Wu during breaks, and impressed him by producing perfect smoke rings, a skill he'd picked up as a young Peace Corps volunteer in Cameroon. Hill, too, came to admire Wu for his intelligence and his persistence.

Wu played a key part. Throughout the recess, China kept the talks alive with bilateral meetings, pushing draft proposals on Pyongyang. But when the delegates returned on Sept. 13, North Korea's demand for a reactor remained unchanged. For the U.S., North Korea's position had less to do with energy needs—its power grid is in a shambles—than scoring political points. But with Hill ready to pack his bags, the Chinese came up with a fifth draft proposal: a delicately-worded compromise that raised the possibility that North Korea could have its trophy reactor at some point, while committing Pyongyang to ending its nuclear programs. Hill informed Rice about the new draft on Saturday morning, Sept. 17, Beijing time, and told her that the Chinese insisted it was a "take it or leave it" proposition, according to U.S. officials. That's not something the Secretary likes to hear. "The question was: Were we prepared to leave in 'discuss a light-water reactor at an appropriate time?'" Rice told TIME in an interview last week. "We did have concerns that if 'at an appropriate time' was vague, that the North might try and tie up the next round saying, 'Where's our light-water?'"

Rice asked Hill to push for more specifics in the proposal. She wanted to firm up a clear sequence of events—denuclearization first, then discussion about a reactor. But according to an aide, Beijing refused. After input from Hill and others at State, the Secretary realized that if Washington stood its ground, it could end up blamed for the failure of the talks. While Hill worked the Mid-Autumn Festival dinner, Rice proposed having individual countries issue side statements on sequencing, so that U.S. allies could present a firm front against Pyongyang. "We thought it was important," Rice told TIME, "that other states make clear that there is a sequence here and that the light-water reactor is an issue for the future. The key is the dismantlement of the nuclear programs."

Rice addressed the U.N. General Assembly on Saturday morning, New York time, then met with foreign leaders. In one-on-one discussions the foreign ministers of South Korea, Russia, Japan and China promised her not to provide a reactor to North Korea until it had fully ended its nuclear program, and agreed to issue side statements with that commitment. Bush signed off on the deal, and a few hours later in Beijing the six parties announced the agreement.

If Rice and Hill deserve credit for keeping the talks alive, so does Beijing. "This would not have happened without the hard work of the Chinese," says retired U.S Ambassador Jack Pritchard, who was the point man for North Korea under former Secretary of State Colin Powell. "The Chinese have attempted to play as even a hand as they could, and they just haven't given up." Pritchard says that Beijing is less committed to a nuclear-free North Korea than Washington is—China's main concern is to avoid a collapsed state on its border. But the fact of an agreement shows that the two giants can find common ground. "There is no daylight whatsoever between us [the U.S. and the Chinese]," says a senior U.S. diplomat with knowledge of the negotiations. "No one is giving these guys any nuclear cooperation until they're out of the nuclear business."

Don't break out the Dynasty wine yet. The negotiators didn't actually sign the agreement, because, so far, there is nothing to sign. The real negotiations, which the U.S. hopes will focus on dismantling the North's nuclear programs, are set to resume in November. "I can't imagine they'll be harder," says Hill. "I just cannot imagine it, but you know, sometimes we have to imagine the unimaginable."

• Bryan Walsh and Elaine Shannon | Washington
• The inside story of how a veteran U.S. diplomat and his chain-smoking Chinese counterpart hammered out a deal on North Korea's nukes